


Worth the Reward

by knoxoursavior



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t the first time Napoleon’s been given a blowjob because of an injury, but he’s certain he’s never thought the pain was worth the reward as much as he does now.</p><p>Or Napoleon gets injured and Illya gets overprotective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Reward

**Author's Note:**

> written for this prompt i got on tumblr from [nostarielstuff](http://nostarielstuff.tumblr.com/):
> 
> Napoleon gets injured ok a mission cue over protective Illya who won't let him walk around or leave the hotel/house/apartment and instead just carried him everywhere.
> 
> it somehow turned into illya giving napoleon a blowjob idk????? it's also my first time writing anything explicit pls send help
> 
> thank you to [scarletwilch](http://scarletwilch.tumblr.com/) for encouraging me even though we're both just simple beans at explicit stuff. /o\

Napoleon wonders what he’s ever done to deserve this. After all, he doesn’t think he’s been anything but irritating and barely tolerable in the eyes of Peril, and yet here he is, arms around Illya’s neck as he’s being carried to his hotel bed.

“You know I can walk, right?” Napoleon says gingerly, though he doesn’t try to get himself off of Illya.

“You can limp,” Illya corrects. “Big difference.”

“Yes, well, I could have limped from the car to my bed,” Napoleon says.

“Would have taken too much time,” Illya reasons. “I did not want to wait.”

Napoleon narrows his eyes. “Are you _worried_ , Peril?”

“I am not!” Illya says, bristling.“I am tired, is what I am. It would be better to get this over with quickly.”

“You _are_ worried,” Napoleon says, grinning and, of course, ignoring everything Illya said.

“I have told you—” Illya cuts himself off with a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t make me throw you out the window.”

“Now, now, Peril. We’ve talked about this. No need to resort to violence,” Napoleon says, teasing. Of course, two months ago, this would have gotten him killed in a matter of seconds.

“Shut up, cowboy,” Illya huffs, his face scrunching as he tries not to snort.

“Are you going to bring me soup and massage my feet every night, dear Illya?” Napoleon hums happily at the thought. “I think I’d like that, actually.”

“You are injured, not sick,” Illya says, rolling his eyes. Napoleon wonders where Illya picked the habit up. Was it from Gaby? “I will just make sure you stay in bed.”

Napoleon smirks. “I can already think of one way you could get me to stay in bed.”

“I can think of a way as well,” Illya says, refusing to back down despite his flushed cheeks. Then, with a thoughtful hum, “Perhaps I can tie you to the bedposts.”

That, of course, goes straight to Napoleon’s groin. He wonders how he’s going to survive the next few days.

“Tease,” Napoleon mutters. “I hope you follow through on that.”

Illya’s lips turn upwards into a fond smile. “Sorry, cowboy. Perhaps when you are feeling better.”

“I’m feeling grand,” Napoleon says. _A sprained ankle isn’t going to get in the way of my being fucked,_ is what he doesn’t.

Illya leans down, and when he speaks, his voice is a purr. “I want you at your best when I pin you to your bed and fuck you.”

Napoleon swallows. Right.

“One problem, Peril,” he says, all but choking on the words. “I don’t think my dick can wait that long.”

Illya freezes, glances down at Napoleon’s tented pants, then at the bed just a few feet away from them, and then back to Napoleon’s pants.

“Ah,” he says finally, sounding more amused than anything. “I suppose we will have to do something about that, yes?”

“ _You’ll_ have to do something about it,” Napoleon says, breathless. He tightens his arms around Illya, pulls himself up to lick a stripe along Illya’s neck. “I’m injured, remember?”

“Cheeky,” Illya murmurs, yet he crosses the distance between them and the bed and makes quick work of unzipping Napoleon’s fly. “I will have to find way to shut you up as well.”

And before Napoleon could think of another quip, Illya surprises him with a tongue licking into his mouth and knuckles brushing against his still clothed dick, and he loses his wits.

Napoleon pulls away enough to moan against Illya’s jaw, hand coming up to pull at Illya’s hair, and hips bucking to meet Illya’s hand.

“Do you want to get this over quickly?” Illya asks, sounding concerned despite his too low voice and his hooded eyes.

Napoleon wants to say no, wants to say that he wants to make this last as long as possible, make _them_ last as long as possible, but he’s tired and his injury is a constant painful throbbing and he actually does want to rest more than he wants to have sex, at least just by a tiny bit.

“Please,” he says finally, pressing his forehead against Illya’s cheek.

Then Illya’s hand is cupping the back of his neck, turning his head slightly upwards so his lips could meet Illya’s in another kiss. It isn’t deep, never becomes deep because Illya has better things to do with his mouth, apparently.

This isn’t the first time Napoleon’s been given a blowjob because of an injury, but he’s certain he’s never thought the pain was worth the reward as much as he does now.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks, just as Illya’s hand find his hip, grip tight to keep him steady. He throws his head back, braces himself, bites his lower lip to keep himself from making a sound when Illya’s tongue finally darts out to lick the head of his cock.

“Don’t,” Illya says, breath hot against Napoleon’s skin. “Let me hear you.”

Napoleon lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, Peril.”

Illya looks up at him, eyes hidden underneath his long lashes, and his mouth is set in a disappointed sort of frown that makes Napoleon inexplicably guilty. “Illya.”

“What?” Napoleon says, his voice breaking because _Christ,_ the way Illya’s hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his cock right now, with his thumb caressing the vein along the underside.

“Call me Illya.”

Napoleon doesn’t think his partner will take no for an answer. He nods. “Illya.”

Illya hums contentedly. “Good.”

Then without any warning, he takes Napoleon into his mouth, slowly, inch by inch, all the while running his hand back and forth on what’s left. Napoleon makes a noise he’d rather not bring up later, especially since he can feel Illya smiling around his cock.

It doesn’t take long for Illya to reach the end, his nose buried in the tuft of hair at the base of Napoleon’s cock. He’s struggling not to choke on it, throat convulsing deliciously around the head. Napoleon is enjoying the sensation a lot more than he should, and as a thank you, he lets out a moan, loud and uninhibited.

Illya hums, sending vibrations along his cock and a jolt up his spine. Napoleon keens, tries and fails to buck his hips closer to Illya’s mouth.

“Your mouth,” Napoleon murmurs, though he never gets to finish his thought because Illya sucks hard, cheeks hollowing out even as his tongue runs across whatever of Napoleon’s cock it can reach. “ _Fuck._ ”

That does it for Napoleon, sends him keening and leaves him breathless. The next thing he knows, Illya’s covering him with a blanket and tucking him into bed.

“Come lie with me, Illya,” Napoleon says when Illya makes a move towards his own bed. He tries not to stare too much at Illya’s too red lips, tries to give him a smile that says _don’t worry, I won’t bite_ without any bit of sarcasm. “You can make sure I go to sleep while cuddling with me.”

Illya turns and considers him for a moment, his face carefully blank until he smiles widely, as if unable to stop himself.

“Whatever you want, Napoleon.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!


End file.
